Blood
by lazarov
Summary: Aaron's worried that Liv might be hiding something. Robert's pretty sure there's more to it than that. (One-shot)


Liv's music reverberated through the walls of the Woolpack, bass-heavy and loud as a stampede of elephants. On the nightstand, Robert's water glass wobbled and clinked like something out of Jurassic Park and he huffed and dropped his book into his lap, annoyed.

"Are you going to tell her to turn it down or are you waiting for me to lose patience and go do it myself?"

Aaron didn't look up from his phone to respond. "Option two." As if on cue, the music suddenly stopped, leaving in its wake a silence so complete that Robert was pretty sure he could hear his own blood pumping in his ears. "Problem solved."

"Right," Robert snorted, picking his book back up and scanning to find his place. "The terror finally decides to slumber."

Aaron grunted noncommittally. Halfway through typing out a text (with that _awful_ keyboard-click sound that he refused to disable even though he knew it drove Robert up the wall), he paused, fingers hovering over the screen. Chewing at his bottom lip, he locked his phone and tossed it onto the bed. "Has Liv seemed alright to you lately?"

"Guess so." Robert shrugged and snorted a laugh. "Certainly no more irritating than usual."

When Aaron didn't respond, Robert glanced over to see the frown on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." Marking his place, he closed his book and set it on the bedside table. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Aaron said quickly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm probably being stupid." He chewed on his thumbnail, his teeth worrying at the corner where nail met skin. His hands were usually in a state from working in the scrapyard, calloused and oil-stained. _Callouses are manly_ , Aaron liked to joke, _not like your soft upper-crust meathooks_. _Like a baby's bottom, them_. But his left thumb was a whole different case, perpetually raw from Aaron absently picking at it with fingernails or teeth. Thankfully, from what Robert can tell it's begun to be edged out by a new habit: fiddling mindlessly with his engagement ring.

Gently, Robert reached forward to pull Aaron's hand away from his mouth. "Spit it out, then."

He knocked an affectionate elbow against Aaron's ribs, prodding him on.

"I've had my eye on Liv the past couple weeks. She's just been - she's been covering up a lot lately, yeah?" Aaron blew out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair and Robert frowned, confused. "You know, long sleeves and that," he explained.

"Can't say I've noticed. What are you getting at?"

Shifting awkwardly under the covers, Aaron sighed. "Never mind. She's so clever and independent and it's stupid of me to even think it."

Finally, it clicked. _Oh._

"You think she might be hurting herself," Robert said carefully, not quite a question and not quite a statement, either. Aaron nodded once, then frowned and shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No. I mean - maybe? It's not just the covering-up. Obviously her school jumper's got long sleeves and she's always worn that hoodie 'round the house. I've just had this weird gut feeling over the last couple of months," he trailed off, shaking his head. "D'you remember that day, when she got upset about Lachlan calling her a charity case? I think she really believed him."

"But you set her straight after that," Robert pointed out.

"I tried," Aaron nodded. "I just can't help thinking about…" He frowned to himself, reconsidering his train of thought.

"Can't help thinking about what?" Robert urged. He twisted to lay on his side, head propped up on his hand and his eyes trained on Aaron's hesitant expression.

"She's fifteen now, same age I was when I started."

Aaron spoke slowly, deliberately, like he was dredging the words up from some long-untouched part of himself, and Robert held his breath and waited for him to continue, afraid that saying a single word out loud might break the spell. The topic had never come up, before - it was rare that Aaron spoke about his self-harm in anything more than guarded language and self-deprecating humour and this was new, terrifying territory for both of them.

Aaron cleared his throat before explaining, his voice wavering, "It was just little stuff to start. Bruising myself up when I was angry, pulling out my hair when I was nervous. Took me a while before I worked up to the big stuff." He wrinkled his nose self-consciously and his eyes stayed trained on his lap, where he resumed picking at the skin around his thumb. This time, Robert reached a hand out to cover Aaron's, interrupting his peeling and scratching. Underneath his palm, Aaron's thumb radiated a sore heat before he pulled his hands free and tucked them under the covers. "Liv's had a rough go of it and I worry that this isn't enough for her. I can barely take care of myself on the best of days." He shook his head. "I think I was fooling myself when I thought I could take care of her, too."

"Hey. Look at me." Reluctantly, Aaron did, and Robert reached up to cup the stubbled edge of his jaw. His thumb brushed against his cheekbone. "You've given that girl love and stability and safety, the likes of which she's never known in her whole life. Don't ever doubt that."

One corner of Aaron's mouth twisted into a weak smile. It was clear he didn't want to let himself believe a word of it, but still. It needed to be said.

"Are you going to talk to her about it?"

"I don't know," Aaron admitted. Cheeks flushing red, he yanked his sleeves down over his hands. "It's only paranoia at this point. I haven't actually, you know, _seen_ anything. Not that I haven't considered scouring her room for clues while she's at school." He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm probably just projecting."

"Projecting?" Robert frowned. "Aaron. You haven't been -"

Aaron's eyes went wide as he realized what Robert was getting at. "No," he said quickly with a vehement shake of his head. He dragged his palm self-consciously over his sleeve, down the inside of his forearm, and leaned over to press an apologetic kiss against the corner of Robert's mouth. "God, no."

"Good," Robert said awkwardly, unsure how else to respond. "I mean. I trust you."

"Good." Aaron nodded, stone-faced. "You should."

He blew out a breath and resumed picking at his cuticles, his thumb beginning to turn an angry red. Aaron's eyes had taken on a glossy red, too: Robert knew how much he hated how little control he had over his tears, the way they always crept up in moments of anger or embarrassment.

"I just mean… she and I are blood, yeah? And sometimes I worry that maybe whatever's all fucked up in here" - Aaron tapped a finger against his temple - "is genetic."

"Well," Robert began carefully, a sudden ache in his chest, "if you're talking about depression, that can certainly be hereditary." He sidestepped around the intense desire to grab Aaron by the shoulders and explain to him in no uncertain terms that he's not and never has been _fucked up_. "And even if she _is_ " - he tried to say the words but they lodged in his throat; even after all this time, after literal years spent nervously, secretly cataloguing Aaron's scars, he still can't say the words - "even if she _is_ doing _that_ , it wouldn't be your fault. Not for a second."

So quietly Robert had to lean in to hear, Aaron murmured, "I dunno."

"It's the truth, you know that. And if you're genuinely worried that something's up, I think you should talk to her instead of torturing yourself by worrying after her. I could even check in on her, have a chat with her about it and see what's up." He shrugged. "You know, if you needed me to."

Aaron coughed a laugh, wiping at his eyes. "Right."

"What?" Robert sat up against the headboard and elbowed him in the ribs again. "I could. We get on like a house on fire, Liv and I."

"D'you mean to say 'a house on fire' or 'a train wreck'?"

"Shut up," Robert murmured affectionately as Aaron ducked under his jaw to press a stubbly kiss against the warm skin of his throat. Robert caught him about the shoulders with one arm and pulled him to his chest. "You're a good one, you know," he said, pressing a kiss to Aaron's hair.

"Nah." Aaron pulled away to lean against the headboard beside him. "I've just got you conned is all."

"Maybe," Robert agreed. "But the perfect con leaves everyone with exactly what they wanted, and I've got you. So I think I'm quite happy to be your hapless mark, thank you very much."

"Idiot." Blowing out a breath, Aaron shook his head. Still, he smiled to himself - a real one this time.

"Talk to her and see what's up," Robert sighed, once again catching Aaron's hand in his own and dragging his thumb across the soft middle of his palm. "Either way, whether there's something going on or not, you'll stop driving yourself mad wondering about it."

"Maybe I'll take her into Hotten tomorrow for supper and a film?"

"Brilliant idea," Robert squeezed his hand, fully expecting Aaron to sheepishly pull away. Perpetually embarrassed by physical affection, that one. But to his surprise, Aaron squeezed back, rough-bitten thumb bumping against his own. Heartened, Robert kept on: "Everything's going to be alright. Because she's got you, and you understand her better than anybody."

"We'll figure it out," Aaron said with a resolved nod, his voice lacking the wobbly unsureness that'd clung to its edges for most of the conversation, and he leaned in to press a kiss to Robert's lips.

Robert let himself melt into it for a brief moment before pressing his forehead to Aaron's, their noses gently brushing. "We'll figure it out," he agreed.


End file.
